Of Sandwiches and Snogging
by ratchetblack
Summary: Wilson plays an April Fools joke that confuses the hell out of House. //HouseWilson//


House decided that if he caught Wilson staring at the back of his head one more time, he was going to whack him over the head with his cane. Because really, best friend or no, there was only so much ogling a man could take. (From another man, anyway, he mused. That brunette over in Admitting could ogle him as much as she wanted.) 

Wilson had been following him around for most of yesterday and all of today so far-- more than he usually did, anyway-- with a rather dopey lovestruck expression. People were starting to talk-- again, more than they usually did. To be completely honest, House was a little flattered, but he couldn't really decide if it was because it was Wilson, or because he was just too creeped-out to consider thinking about anything else at the moment. And if it _was_ because it was Wilson, then he was _also_ going to be too creeped-out to consider thinking about anything else, because that right there was a whole new level of... creepiness.

Damn Wilson for successfully obliterating his vocabulary with that lost-puppy look of his. House's line of thought died an abrupt and knotty death as he stared intently at the sandwich on his plate, pretending not to notice Wilson continuing with his assault of the bedroom-eyes.

He checked his watch inconspicuously while sliding his tray forward in the lunchline-- did Wilson usually stand _that_ close to him when they got lunch together?-- and was struck by another wave of disturbance when he suddenly realized that that brunette in Admitting sometimes had the same puppy-eyed expression that Wilson was currently giving him.

Wilson sidled closer. House's neck prickled.

This bore further examination.

Even if it _was_ April Fool's Day, Wilson was never _this_ obvious with a prank. Wilson's style was much more subtle, and thus far eviler than anything this blatant could ever be. Either this was a prank so big it _couldn't_ be subtle, or Wilson had finally lost his marbles. Maybe his precious cancer kids were playing Potsie with them down in pediatrics.

House frowned in annoyance and turned to look at Wilson.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" demanded House.

Wilson blinked once and stared blankly at House, lips parted and... eyes slightly crazed. House twitched at the sight of that expression, deserted his knots of thought, and fumbled briefly with his cane to turn around and run (or at least limp with alacrity) towards the cafeteria doors. This had gone from creepy straight into parallel universe territory. Dr. Jimmy Wilson was not allowed to look crazed in any degree. It just was not so. Ever. Which was why, House told himself, his heart had just jumped unpleasantly in his chest.

House was almost ready to abandon his food to the lunchline and scramble away when Wilson rushed forward in an uncharacteristic show of speed-- had Wilson ever moved that fast before? thought House in a moment of wide-eyed, paralyzed, what-the-fuck-is-going-on terror-- and grabbed House by the lapels of his jacket. House found himself pinned roughly to the side of the hot lunch cart and suddenly Wilson was kissing him, hard.

Well. He hadn't actually been expecting that.

After a few moments, House realized the whole _cafeteria_ hadn't been expecting that. Well, that was obvious to anyone with their eyes open, but House had his eyes squeezed tightly closed at the moment and personally thought the dead silence was a good indication of "hadn't been expecting that" syndrome.

Wilson is still kissing you, a small part of his brain reminded him, in a high-pitched singsong. And his whole body is currently pressed very, very close to you and don't you think he's an excellent kisser? House floundered mentally for a good comeback to that and had to settle with a thoroughly unsatisfying "Shut up. I'm sitting in my sandwich."

Unsatisfying because the sandwich (and the rest of the hot lunch cart, to be completely precise, which Wilson was practically molding-himself-to-House's-body against) was still very warm and had the potential to become really uncomfortable in a minute or so, and because that comeback hadn't actually made Wilson stop kissing him. Which might have been a good thing. Wilson really _was_ a good kisser.

House decided to follow up on that thought _after_ he got the sandwich off his butt.

House squinted his eyes open slightly to see Wilson pressed up against him, eyes closed, head tilted into the kiss. House made a "mmpf" sound and levered himself off the cart, quickly brushed the sandwich off the back of his clothes-- thankfully he hadn't ordered one with excessive sauce, that would've been a pain to wash-- and redirected Wilson's weight sideways, spinning them both around and pinning Wilson to the hot lunch cart, all without breaking the kiss.

Wilson's eyes shot open briefly from the shock of the impact. House could feel Wilson's jaw go slack for a moment and kissed back to remind him "You're not done with me yet. You started it, after all."

Wilson recovered quickly and chuckled into the kiss. He repositioned himself against the cart so he wasn't leaning on the warm glass over the food, wound his arms around House's neck-- and stuck his tongue into House's mouth.

House went "eep" and peevishly resolved to have a long talk with Wilson about this. As soon as they were done.

"HOUSE! WILSON!"

Both men jumped, startled-- House felt Wilson wince a bit as House accidentally bit his tongue-- and turned to look at the woman who had just barged through the cafeteria doors.

When Cuddy had gotten the page from Chase, she'd high-tailed it to the cafeteria as fast as she could, dignity be damned. All the young doctor had put in his page were the words "HOUSE IN CAFE," which was enough to make her blood run cold. What on earth was he doing now?

Cuddy was thrown for a moment when she realized the cafeteria was absolutely silent. It took her another moment to identify her wayward colleagues in the lunchline, and to her credit, she took it rather well. Or as well as anyone _could_ take something like finding two male colleagues with their arms wrapped around each other and having a heated snogging session in the middle of a completely silent cafeteria. Her initial incredulous outburst at the doorway was evidence of that.

"What on earth are you _doing_?" she screeched, walking closer. Wilson held in a snort, but moved to hide behind House, who was still pressing Wilson against the cart with his hands on Wilson's waist.

House looked at Wilson, down at himself, then back up at Cuddy. "I dunno, but it was fun. Wanna join in?"

Quiet, amused chatter began to break out around the cafeteria. Cuddy covered her face with one hand and muttered darkly to herself.

"Happy April Fool's Day?" offered Wilson. House stared. So did Cuddy.

"You... you... I don't want to know," said Cuddy, staring at the two of them through her fingers. "Take your lunch upstairs and eat it in your offices. You've traumatized these people enough for one day." She aimed an especially emphatic glare at House, who attempted to protest but was powerless against the Cuddy Glare of Doom.

Damn Wilson for making Cuddy think all this was his fault.

"Well, _fine_," said House, casting a sulky sideways glance at his poor smushed sandwich, "I think lunch was off anyway." And he let Wilson traipse out of the cafeteria with him in tow.

As soon as he and Wilson were clear of the giggling nurses, he grabbed Wilson's arm and pulled him back towards his office. He pushed Wilson into a chair and glowered at him.

"You trailed me for two days and molested me in the cafeteria all for an April Fool's joke?"

Wilson shrugged, relaxing backwards into the chair in a post-event adrenaline crash. "I definitely didn't hear you complaining." He stood up and straightened his labcoat and tie. "And who said it was an April Fool's joke? I wished Cuddy a 'Happy April Fool's _Day_.'"

Wilson personally thought the dumbstruck look suited House quite well.


End file.
